Blog Tour: Heart on the Run by Lee Brazil and Havan Fellows

Thank you Kim Chan for hosting us today. We’re here to share our new Parkerburg release Heart on the Run and answer a couple of questions.

If you could pick any author to have a cup of coffee with, who would it be?
Lee: *clutches coffee cup* That’s a trick question, isn’t it? Havan told you to ask that, didn’t she? Of course if I were picking an author to have coffee with it would be Havan. Since, you know, John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway are both dead.
Havan: We have coffee every morning together (like thousands of miles between us would stop that lol). But of course I’d love to have coffee with Lee in person, also…and if Stephen King wanted to join us, I wouldn’t say no. 🙂

What’s on your playlist right now?
Lee: Tom Petty. I’ve got Wildflowers on loop right now. It’s my second all time favorite.
Havan: I don’t really have a playlist. I’ve got this attention problem, if anything is happening in the background when I’m trying to write well…um, I’m not writing. Sad but true. Though I sometimes listen to music before writing to get me in a certain frame of mind.
How would you describe your writing style?
Lee: Hah. Style? I’d describe my writing style as painstaking at the moment. Today, it feels like each sentence is pulling teeth. Sometimes, that’s not the case, but now… It’s slow going.
Havan: I tend to believe that there is way too much seriousness in the world and sometimes you have to stand back and laugh at yourself. So I would say that my writing style is a mash-up between endearing love and OMG WTF with a heavy dose of snark for taste.

How do you see this series?
Lee: I’ll let Havan field that one while I refill our coffees.
Havan: *eyes Lee* That better be darn good coffee to be dumping the question on me like this. Truth is I can’t rave enough about this series, it’s like I’m fangirling books that I helped write—actually it is that, exactly lol. I’m a big fan of Gilmore Girls (and OMG they are coming back!!!) and always loved that small town concept. When Lee and I started writing Christmas in His Heart I can honestly say some of my motivation was the joy of being in my own little small town. And much like Stars Hollow, Parkerburg drew me in. Every time we go back to write another book we’re visiting old friends. That’s what I hope the readers take away from these books, that whenever they come back they are once again strolling down Main Street, stopping for coffee at Prudence’s and waving at all their friends they missed while they were gone.






Sprocket grabbed the grande hot chocolates—with a dash of his favorite flavoring, pecan—and reached the gazebo with five minutes to spare, per the clock tower.
He set the drinks on the bench of the gazebo so he could spread the blanket across the floor.
“Wow, that’s a huge blanket,” Chaz stated as he took the three step up to stand at the edge of it.
“Never took you for a size queen.” Sprocket winked as he handed him a cup of steaming goodness. “So, what’s for lunch?”
“Oh, well…” Chaz held the basket close to his chest as he slipped off his shoes and situated himself in the middle of the blanket. “Not much.” He pulled a thermos from the basket. “I made homemade tomato soup and chicken salad sandwiches.” He set the thermos down and pulled out wrapped sandwiches, a bag of croutons, a plastic bowl with a translucent red lid, and a small stack of china dishes in rapid succession.
“My grandma used to make me tomato soup and grilled cheese all the time. Except she’d actually grill the cheese before putting it on the sourdough toast. I tried to make it once…didn’t end so well.” He laughed as he shook his head, settling down next to Chaz on the blanket.
“But I’ve heard you and Mason talk; you cook most of the time between the two of you.”
Sprocket accepted the sandwich handed to him and nodded. “Yep. Well you know, we both can cook, but neither of us gets much fun out of it.” He unwrapped the sandwich and picked up half, biting into it. He couldn’t suppress his moan. Damn that was good, and Chaz put nuts in it for crunch, walnuts and pecans. How did he know pecans were Sprocket’s favorite? A part of him wanted to believe maybe Chaz had asked around. Anyone in Craft Time would know and Prudence did too.
Not that it mattered either way. Nothing strange about a friend—and only a friend—knowing something as mundane as that. He quickly chewed and swallowed. “And we definitely don’t do fancy. Unless you count roast, but even then I sprinkle the seasoning on it and throw it in the oven. No fuss, no muss.”
With his next bite, something popped in his mouth, making him want to gag. He held it back, and while Chaz gazed out over the park at the kids running in the playground Sprocket lifted the toast to see what he bit into. Grapes. He grimaced as he quickly plucked the halved grapes out of the salad and dropped them on the napkin by his leg.
“You don’t like grapes?”
Sprocket jumped. Fuck…busted. “I like them fine. I like them right off the vine, frozen, even mashed up as wine…don’t like them so much with seeds, though.”
“Or in a sandwich, apparently.” Chaz noted, gesturing to the evidence on the blanket between them.
“Well…” Sprocket jammed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and chewed slowly, biding himself some time. While he was trying to break down the enormous amount of food in his mouth, he grabbed the other half of the sandwich and proceeded to pick the grapes out of that also.
Chaz raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. He’d already been caught, no use faking it up now.
Reaching over, Chaz snatched Sprocket’s wrist and guided it to his mouth. Sprocket gulped the food in his mouth down, his stomach somersaulting either from the partially chewed lump it just received or because of the man sitting across from him on the blanket.
This wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t use their friend’s fingers as utensils. Still, he probably could’ve gotten past this moment if there hadn’t been a smidge of mayonnaise on the tip of his nail. Chaz spotted it, and while staring Sprocket in the eye, he put that spot right in front of his mouth. They sat like that for an eternity. Sprocket could feel his heart pounding fast, wondered if his pulse alerted Chaz to his extreme interest in the man’s next move.
He wanted to shout at Chaz to lick him. Do it now. Put him out of his misery. There was nothing Sprocket wanted more than to experience the wetness of Chaz’s tongue as it cleaned the white stuff from his finger. That was a lie. Sprocket wanted them to make more white stuff that had to be cleaned off, the kind you couldn’t purchase in a store. Well, maybe you could purchase it…but he really didn’t want his brain to go off on that tangent.
Finally—finally!—Chaz licked the condiment off. Before he could move back and call an end to this little episode, Sprocket broke free of his grip and hooked his hand behind the other man’s neck, holding him there, unable to move away.
When their lips met, it wasn’t gentle and coaxing. Sprocket wasn’t in that kind of mood. He wanted bad and he wanted now. Fuck friends. That whole concept was overrated if it kept him up all night in need. Anyway, this wasn’t his fault. Chaz started this shit; Sprocket would finish it.
And this time, he’d be better prepared. When Chaz kicked him the fuck out of his life, it wouldn’t tear him apart. Because no matter what, he’d make sure there wasn’t a spot in his heart for Chaz. Sprocket willingly would give up half his bed for the man, but nothing more.
While diving his tongue in Chaz’s mouth—reaching far enough back he could say with great certainty Chaz no longer had tonsils—Sprocket damn near convinced himself that he could do that, too.
Then Chaz whimpered, his hand pressing against Sprocket’s chest, right over his heart, and Sprocket knew he was a goner.

Beacon Hill, Boston in snow.

Beacon Hill, Boston in snow.

Meet the authors:
Lee Brazil:
Somewhere in a small town in up-state New York are a librarian and a second grade teacher to whom I owe my life. That might be a touch dramatic, but it’s nevertheless one hundred percent true.
Because they taught me the joy of reading, of escaping into worlds crafted of words.
Have you ever been nine years old and sure of nothing so much as that you don’t belong? Looked at the world from behind glasses, and wondered why you don’t fit?
Someone hands you a book, and then you turn the page and see… There you are, running from Injun Joe in a dark graveyard; there you are fencing with Athos; there you are…beneath the deep blue sea- marveling at exotic creatures with Captain Nemo.
I found myself between the pages of books, and that is why I write now. It’s why I taught English and literature for so many years, and it’s why my house contains more pounds of books than furniture.
If I’d had my way, I’d have been a fencer…or a starship captain, or a lawyer, or a detective solving crimes. But instead, I am a writer, and I’ve come to realize that’s the best thing in the world to be, because as a writer, I can be all those things and more.
If I hadn’t learned to value the stories between the pages, who knows what would have happened? Certainly not college…teaching…or writing.
Havan Fellows:
I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called…edits.

Okay no, seriously…I’m a simpleminded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time. I also am privileged to be with the Pulp Friction writers, creating intermingling books in a world all our own.

I recently took the drastic step of quitting my EDJ (evil day job) and am now living in the gorgeous desert in Arizona making a go at this writing stuff full time…and I can’t see me regretting this decision ever.

Just like every other red-blooded human—I get a little bouncy when I get mail (any kind too…email, comments, private messages…you wanna do it, do it with me *winks*). So feel free to drop me a line—whether it’s on my blog, twitter, PInterest, or you track me down on FaceBook or Google +…it’s easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

Where to find the authors:
Lee Brazil:
Facebook Author Page:
Twitter: @leebrazil
Newsletter Signup:

Havan Fellows:
Blog –
Twitter – @havanfellows
Pinterest –
FaceBook –
Google + –
FB group –
Goodreads Link:
Publisher: Appleton Publishing Avenue
Cover Artist: Author.Services
Tour Dates & Stops:
17-Nov: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, MM Good Book Reviews
19-Nov: Parker Williams, Bayou Book Junkie
21-Nov: Cheekypee Reads and Reviews, Inked Rainbow Reads
24-Nov: Elisa – My Reviews and Ramblings,
26-Nov: Unquietly Me, Love Bytes
28-Nov: Wake Up Your Wild Side, Happily Ever Chapter
1-Dec: Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, Velvet Panic
3-Dec: TTC Books and More
5-Dec: The Jena Wade, Jessie G. Books
8-Dec: V’s Reads, Cathy Brockman Romances
10-Dec: Nautical Star Books, Louise Lyons
12-Dec: My Fiction Nook
15-Dec: Book Reviews, Rants, and Raves, Books A to Z
17-Dec: Jessie G. Books
19-Dec: The Day Before You Came
22-Dec: QUEERcentric Books
24-Dec: Prism Book Alliance
26-Dec: Kimi-Chan
29-Dec: Vampires, Werewolves, and Fairies, Oh My, Molly Lolly
31-Dec: BFD Book Blog, Alpha Book Club
2-Jan: Sassygirl Books, Dawn’s Reading Nook

Rafflecopter Prize: Kindle Fire with books from Havan Fellows & Lee Brazil
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